


To Be Thankful For

by raven_rising



Series: Bellarke One-shots/Prompts [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family!feels, Mom and Dad Bellamy/Clarke references, Thanksgiving, a little silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2665937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_rising/pseuds/raven_rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt for Bellarke Thanksgiving! X posted on my Tumblr  <a href="http://ravenrising.tumblr.com/post/103448842465/to-be-thankful-for">here</a>!<br/>Happy Thanksgiving, if you do celebrate. If not, have a happy Thursday!<br/>Some sort of future Thanksgiving type of thing, where Jasper is an annoyance, Raven is exasperated and Monty has a bit of sass. Plus, Bellamy and Clarke get a little sappy.<br/>Completely out of character for those two is basically what I'm saying.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Thankful For

"Whose idea was this again?" Jasper inquired.

Shivers racked his body, the fur mantle he was wearing fluttering in the slight breeze sweeping in from the east. He shuffled closer to the roaring fire they had lit near the center of camp.

"Seriously?" Raven huffed. "If you weren't stick-thin..."

She leaned over while putting the majority of her weight on her right leg. The metal buckles on her brace squeaked. Miller silently supported her with a hand at her hip. She shook her head and pursed her lips a bit as she gathered the ends of Jasper's cloak and crossed them across his chest, tucking them under his arms.

"I'd call you "Mom", Raven, but we all know that's not a title you hold," Monty stage whispered.

He blew into his hands futilely in an attempt to regain feeling in the tips of his fingers.

Octavia laughed and pointed at Clarke standing across from her at the work table they had constructed from some metal scraps they had salvaged. Clarke said nothing but her cheeks turned a little rosier than they already were. Clarke had a lie ready that the pink color was from the chill in the air, but no one called her out on it. Octavia went back to work on the potatoes, still giggling.

"Welcome to the concept of democracy!" Bellamy said. "We voted and you were on the losing side. I suggest you learn how to campaign better next time."

Bellamy was scrubbing the red stains from his hand, a combination of dried animal blood from the wild turkey's he had brought in with the hunting group that morning and the cranberries they had traded with the Grounders for.

"I don't remember a vote," Jasper retorted.

Bellamy paused in his hand washing and stared at Jasper, his eyebrow raised in one of his varied but typical I-was-clearly-making-a-joke-I-can-be-a-fun-leader looks.

"Oh. Right," Jasper said, hopping in place in a bid for more warmth.

Clarke swiped the back of her wrist across her forehead in order to push back the strands of her hair that had fallen across her brow. Bellamy leaned over, his hands finally clean, and tucked them behind her ear. She smiled at him in that devastating way she had, one corner of her mouth tipped up a little higher than the other and he felt his heart skip a beat.

The camp bustled around them, filled with life.

 _Perhaps we should stop calling it a camp_ , Bellamy pondered.

They had come so far in their time here. Gone were the flimsy and ramshackle tents they once called home. They had peace with the Grounders for the most part, opening up trade routes with the forest clan to one side and the rest of the survivors of the downed Ark to the South. Due to the peace, they had time to work on building proper places of residence. Small wooden cabins and the like were in progress, although a vast majority of them were still sharing living quarters. Construction had come to a halt as the weather cooled and the leftover members of the 100 had bore down in preparation for their second winter. Even so, the small village was so full of energy.

Bellamy could hear laughter come from many directions, almost like it was a wave that rolled towards him. He would never admit it, but it warmed him like he himself was standing in front of the flames that formed their primary sources of heat. Clarke had passed the turkey she was trussing to Octavia, who had set it to roast on the fire Jasper was still silently asking for an iota of warmth from. Miller stoked at the fire, stirring up embers that floated up and twisted away. Clarke leaned into Bellamy, entwining her arms about his waist as naturally as the sun rose every morning. His own curled around her back and his hand spanned the majority of her back, anchoring her to him. Bellamy and Clarke were both quiet as they stood together lost in their own thoughts.

Jasper shivered again. "I'm still wondering how this happened. Why are we cooking turkey and making all this weird food?"

Raven groaned and chucked the pine cone she had been fiddling with at Jasper's head. Whether intentional or not, it glanced off of the goggles that had long since become Jasper's trademark headgear.

"I think you hit the herbs a little too hard on the Ark," Monty laughed. "Thanksgiving. Old Earth tradition with amazing food that we could only dream of?"

"Speaking of Old Earth traditions," Clarke piped up, "they had this thing where you would say something you're grateful for over the past year. We should try it."

Clarke tilted up her head, blue eyes shining at Bellamy as if to persuade him.

"Lookin' at you, Princess," he softly spoke. "Your kingdom."

Clarke rolled her eyes and huffed a breath that swirled in patterns in the chill.

"Me first!" Octavia waved her hand in the air."The turkey has to cook for awhile yet."

Raven reached out and slapped a hand across Jasper's mouth before he could even part his lips. Miller snickered from next to her.

"Don't say it," she ordered.

"I'm grateful for the ground under my feet," Octavia murmured.

Her brow furrowed a bit and she closed her eyes. Bellamy knew she was thinking of the space under the floor that she used to be so familiar with.

"Oh! Also the fact that Clarke is putting up with my brother so he can stop his disapproving hovering over my shoulder all the time," Octavia grinned at her sibling.

"Love you, too, O," Bellamy said.

"I appreciate the Grounders giving us these awesome berries," Monty said.

He dipped his fingers back into the wooden bowl they were sitting in.

"You're so gross," Raven reprimanded him and slapped at his hand.

Monty pouted at her and set the bowl back onto the work table.

"I'll go next," Jasper put a hand to his chin and scratched at his jaw in thought while taking a seat next to the fire pit. "For the moonshine that we get to drink later, but I'm also thankful for...every time I step out of this camp and every time I come back in."

Raven smiled at him. Octavia leaned over from her chair-one of the jump seats they had taken from the dropship-and rubbed a hand across his back. Jasper stared with distant eyes into the bed of the fire.

"My turn?" Raven asked. She stretched out her working leg and kneaded her knee on the other. "For the ability to still stand on two legs, whether by working nerves or by man-made help."

Bellamy laughed, more to himself than at anything else.

"Something to say?" Clarke questioned.

""Give me but one firm spot on which to stand, and I will move the earth,"" Bellamy replied. "Archimedes said that, I think, but it's true in this instance. He was a Greek guy, not Roman, but I think that just proves how much I've grown as a person."

Bellamy leaned down and ran his lips along Clarke's cheekbone to her ear.

"That's you, Clarke. You're my spot to stand," he murmured so only she could hear.

Clarke let her eyes flutter closed and sighed, slipping one hand up Bellamy's back under the hem of his shirt. She scrapped her nails along his spine as she went relishing in his warmth.

Octavia pretended to gag, miming she was being sick.

"You want to talk about gross," she cackled.

"What happened to being happy about us, Octavia? That sure ended soon," Bellamy teased.

Clarke drew back, the intimacy of the moment lost but not the electricity between them.

"My father had this phrase that he was fascinated by when I was growing up, but he always made sure that I knew the original proverb. I think it applies to all of us especially well. "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,"" Clarke quoted. "We've been to hell and back but we made it. We're family."

The rest of the group fell silent, contemplating the quote and what it meant to each of them.

Bellamy stared at Clarke, completely surprised. He ran his eyes over her face, over the waves and tumbles that made up the golden strands of her hair.

"Logic from the heart, Clarke Griffin?" He asked. "Who would've thought that you would ever stop thinking with only your head?"

"It's your fault. I-" she stopped in mid-sentence.

Bellamy had trailed his broad hands up and over her shoulders, coming to a stop with his fingertips over the nape of her neck hidden beneath her hair. His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones. His eyes were dark as hooded as he stared at her. Clarke felt her own widen in response. Bellamy let his knees unlock a little and he bent his head. He lightly brushed his lips across hers once, twice and Clarke felt her eyes slide shut automatically. Clarke's hands came up to clasp his wrists as they drank from each other. Clarke smiled into the kiss and Bellamy responded back equally.

"I didn't ask to see Mom and Dad make out. I just wanted some good food that other people made. ...Whose idea was this again?" Jasper asked.

 _"Shut up, Jasper!"_ the group yelled in sync, excluding Bellamy and Clarke.

"I'm _so_ pleased to announce that dinner is ready," Octavia said.

Bellamy and Clarke laughed, mostly to each other, at the brood that was their family.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Jasper yelped in reply. "You're not my real parents!"

* * *

 

Later in the hut they call theirs, long after the dinner and moonshine and laughter, Bellamy and Clarke lay together. Her legs are bracketed by his and his lip follow the trail his hands took earlier in the day-up and over her shoulders. He places warm lips across the stunning line that makes up her clavicle-a term he knows thanks to her medical prowess. He had always thought that she was his sun-full of warmth and light and a constant presence that banished out his dark. In reality, though, she was much more. It hadn't occurred to him until recently, but he had not realized the full scope of what she meant. He lifted his lips from her skin and pulled back to stare into the deep blue of her eyes.

"You know I love the dead Roman guys, but what I'm about to borrow from someone else is most important," Bellamy stated.

He bent down and nibbled at the alabaster column of her throat. Clarke's shoulders started to shake with laughter.

"Be serious now," Bellamy chastised, bending to kiss her.

"I'm terribly sorry," Clarke bit at her lip in apology.

Bellamy waited as she calmed, his hand sliding softly over the bare skin at her hip. His left forearm bore his weight as he reached up to brush hair back from her temple.

"E.E. Cummings was a poet that gave me the words I didn't know I needed until now: "“Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.”"

Clarke reached up and pulled him to her, letting his weight protect and warm her.

**Author's Note:**

> Jasper's "You're not my real parents!" line is one of my absolute favorite things to say.  
> Please review. I have no idea if any of the things I write are any good otherwise. Thank you for reading!  
> Also, there is no Finn Collins in this fic as I am 5000% done with his ridiculousness and cannot write him to save my life.


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